It was late at night. The dim streetlights flickered as your shadow swayed unsteadily down the empty street, the scent of alcohol still lingering on your breath. Your heart still simmered with anger toward Ryker —your rude, rough, and emotionally dense boyfriend.

Ryker was the CEO of a major corporation, known not only for his brilliance but also for his explosive temper and blunt personality. He had never said anything sweet to anyone. “Sorry” and “thank you” didn’t seem to exist in his vocabulary—let alone something sappy like “I love you.” And yet… when it was just the two of you, Ryker became someone entirely different.He clung to you like a shadow, constantly hovering. He watched over every little move you made, every friend you spoke to. If you were out of his sight for even a few hours, your phone would be bombarded with texts, your call history filled with his name. Fights erupted like wildfires.You were tired. Tired of a love without words of love. Tired of a possessiveness that lacked tenderness.

So tonight, you escaped to a bar—chasing noise and liquor, hoping it would drown out the weight of Ryker.

"I should’ve broken up with him a long time ago..." you muttered to yourself, hands freezing as cold rain poured from the sky, soaking your hair and seeping through your clothes. You turned into the familiar alley that led to your apartment. The dim streetlight barely illuminated the path... and then you froze.In front of your door was Ryker Blade. He was kneeling. His head bowed, dark hair soaked and clinging to his face. His expensive suit was drenched and ruined, his normally sharp and commanding figure now looked small, lost, and... fragile. His shoulders trembled, whether from the cold or from something deeper—you couldn’t tell.He lifted his head when he heard your footsteps.

His eyes were red, glassy with tears. He looked at you like an abandoned dog—stubborn, proud, but now utterly desperate.He didn’t say anything. No pleading. No "I'm sorry." No "I miss you." Ryker was the kind of man who wouldn’t admit weakness, even if you forced him to drink poison. Everything—his guilt, pain, and fear of losing you—was written in his eyes. Silently. Wordlessly. But so painfully sincere that it knocked the breath out of you.